The Cycle Begins Again
by ShadowedElegance
Summary: Nadia Todd Returns to Fleet Street to avenge the deaths of her parents. Meeting an old friend of theirs may shake things up. Is he with her or against her?
1. The Cycle Begins Again

**I hope you guys like it! This is my second Sweeney fic. so let me know if it's any good!**

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sweeny Todd. I do own my originaal character.

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Nadia Todd was an accident. She believed the rumors, well, most of them. The gossip always about London was that she had a demon father and the Devil's wife as a mother. They had gotten a bit happy with the gin one night and nine months later she was born. Her father wasn't really in love with her mother, but they were business partners. He murdered men to get revenge on a Judge Turpin for taking his wife from him, and her mother baked the bodies into meat pies. One night her father had accidentally killed his half crazy wife and was so mad he pushed her mother into a furnace. After doing so, he supposedly wept before his dead wife, and some little bastard slit the poor man's throat. She believed this much, except that she didn't believe that her parents were all bad. Her mother had truly loved the man who fathered her first and only child. She had cared enough to keep her pregnancy hidden and send Nadia off to the workhouse for safety. She had cared enough about her to leave the workhouse members a note as well.

"_This lovely little girl is Nadia Todd, please do not change her name. 'Nadia' means aquatic. Take care of her please, I never really wanted to let her go."_

Her mother had loved the sea, she could tell. Along with a name that meant 'aquatic' she had left Nadia with a necklace made of polished and broken seashells. It was her prized possession and she never took it off. She also kept the note that was left with her. The parchment was torn, but the calligraphy was beautiful and the midnight blue of the ink entranced her. She decided after eighteen years, it was time to return home.

Nadia stood on the deserted corner of Fleet Street. She had the eye coloring of her mother, but there was a coldness beyond them that was a distinct trait of her father. Her hair looked much like her mother's, but it fell in very loose ringlets and was left down at all times except when she was at the seaside. In appearance she was very much reminiscent of her mother, but emotionally she was most definitely her father's daughter. She wore a deep purple silk dress with small sleeves and a fitted black bodice. Her dainty black shoes clicked on the cobblestone as she crossed to the old pie shop. She had been making her way in life with some pastries she had come up with. She felt a certain closeness to her mother when she baked, it was almost like she was there helping her. Opening the door, the saw the shop in just the condition it was left in. No one would even go near it, much less go in to loot it. She had seen many a man cross the street and continue on rather than cross in front of the shop itself. She ran a finger along the dusty counter top. The parlor was dusty too, then again, the entire place seemed to have a coating of the stuff. She stopped short and tears began to well in her eyes as she stood in front of her mother's bedroom door. She knew the last person in here would have been her mother before she died and everything would be just as she had left it. She turned the knob with caution, and entered.

The bed was made and a faded shade of blue. It must have been a reminder of the blue waters of the sea for her mother. There was a small vanity in the corner with a cracked mirror and many hairpins on the surface of the table portion. She pushed a yellowed white curtain away to find a sort of closet. There was a trunk filled with mothballs and beautiful dresses. She had to leave this room though, the pain was too great at the moment. She walked outside again and began to climb the old stairs that went up to her father's shop.

An old bell greeted her and she slowly entered. Looking around, she noticed the large chair in the center, a table with a small box, and broken mirror towards the back, and a small shelf with an empty vase sitting all by its lonesome. She wandered to the chair and before sat down, she accidentally stepped on the pedal at the base of it. The old chair snapped backwards as a trap door opened behind it. Slightly startled, she looked down the door into a chute with apparently led to a basement. The chair soon lifted back up and looked normal again, but Nadia wouldn't be sitting in it for a while. She made her way to the box on the table in the back. She picked it up and brushed off the dust before opening it. It was beautifully crafted out of mahogany it looked like. She took a deep breath before opening the box, she already knew what was probably inside. Lifting the lid, silver gleamed and caught her eye. She smiled a little before opening it the rest of the way. Yes, there they were. Her father's razors. One was missing though, and she knew exactly where it was. It was on the waist of that smug little bastard Tobias. He always kept it with him as sort of a trophy. She picked a razor out of the faded red felt that held them so neatly. She flicked it open and it caught what little light there was in the room. This wasn't the end of her family. She would get Tobias and have her revenge. The cycle had begun again.


	2. Preparation

Nadia spent the next few days preparing to open the shop. She had no need to buy it because no one had ever attempted to sell it to begin with. She carried what few things she had to the shop in a sack. A childhood in the workhouse did not leave one with much. She had moved into her mother's bedroom, but changed very little of it because even though she never knew her mother, she imagined that this is what she must have felt like. Nadia only had one other dress and it just barely fit in the trunk that was full of her mother's gowns. Today she had decided to try one on before starting to work. She had picked out a somewhat simple dress. It had a deep burgundy bodice, and the rest of the dress was charcoal with accents of the bodice along the collar, hem, and edges of the sleeves that fell halfway down her upper arm. It was loose fitting, not in the sense that it was too big, but that it was intended for work.

The first thing Nadia did was dust the place off. No one would come if there were grey clouds forming at their footsteps. This took a great portion of her day and even thought she had gotten up early, when she finally finished, it was a bit after noon. The next thing to do was tidy up the shop. Since the dusting was done, she really only had to wash the great window and the chair in the center. She also used some of her money to replace the cracked mirrors and went to buy some flowers to brighten up the room. She found herself in front of the flower vendor perplexed.

"Maybe some daisies might relieve the gloom…wait…gillyflowers maybe, steada' daisies, I don't know though…" she looked to the vendor's eyes "what do you think?"

"I don' know miss, just get a few of each."

So she did and wandered happily back to the shop to place the flowers in their new home. Nadia spent the rest of the day baking a myriad of desserts to sell the next day. She felt a significant amount of grief when she went into the basement to begin making the treats but tears overcame her and she fell to the floor when she looked that the ashes that had made a home in the stove. She stared hopelessly at them praying that maybe her mother's figure would return from the soot. No such thing happened and so she stared at the once again working oven and her mother's ashes burning in the bottom. Each batch had become easier to make for she felt that her mother was now a cornerstone of her revenge. She made some cookies, a few cakes, and a batch of pastries. She placed the goodies on a plate that she could affix a glass top to, and placed it near the stove in the bakehouse.

Evening was nearing now. The baked goods were staying warm, the flowers were brightening the shop, and her new home was clean. She had placed a sign outside of the door signaling the grand re-opening of the pie and barber's shop. However, it also notified that no meat pies would be sold. She sipped her tea knowing she would be doing the work of two people tomorrow. She wouldn't kill everyone, no, that was a bit extreme she thought. Instead she would kill anyone who insulted her family or anyone that figured her plan out. Hopefully though, the re-opening would attract the attention of Tobias. She didn't hate him for trying to avenge his "adopted mother". She shook, that term he used for _her _mother made her cringe. No, she hated him for thinking he could change it. That would not have made his "Mrs. Lovett" proud. Why on earth would he take her death as strength to kill the man she loved? Was he daft? She also hated the fact that he had killed her father. Someday when she finally escaped the workhouse she would have someone to go to. Now she had no one to love in this world and her heart was growing cold. She finished her tea and decided it was time to practice shaving.

She had bought the needed supplies for the trade, but had never really learned how to use them in all her business of that day. Then she brought the razors and lather into the bathroom, there was no way she would try to sit in that contraption of a chair again. She brought the stool from the vanity in and sat with her legs in the tub. Nadia took off her dress and rolled up her bloomers. She sat there in her corset and bloomers and began to sweep the lather onto her legs. Next, she flicked open a razor and took a deep breath. Slowly she reached down to the top of her ankle and brushed the razor along it. There was the sound of a scrape of the metal on the hair of her leg, then nothing. There was no blood. She continued the pattern along the rest of her leg, growing more comfortable with every stroke but the razor dug into the skin about an inch under her knee. She let out a small yelp and set the precious razor down. The cut was not horrible, but blood was still making its way down her delicate leg. She grabbed a washcloth that was sitting in a bucket nearby and rang it out. Nadia wiped off the trickle of blood and firmly pressed on the wound itself. Soon it stopped and she as free to finish the shave. Similar instances only occurred a few more times during the whole evening, and when she was done, she was very pleased with herself. Her legs were perfectly smooth and bore only a few red spots. She rubbed her shin against the calf of the other leg to feel the silky skin slide alongside itself. When she felt satisfied, she slipped on a nightgown and slinked into bed. Tomorrow would be a long day.


	3. Business Never Better

**Ok everyone, this fic isn't doing as well as I had hoped, so it will end within three to five chapters. If you want it to keep going, spread the word! I am super excited right now though, because next month I am going to see Sweeney Todd at the Chicago Palace Theatre!!!! I just got my tickets today and I SCREAMED Also, please check out the poll on my profile, love to all!**

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The daytime came quickly to Nadia and she made sure everything was in place. The pastries and goods were staying warm, the tables were set and clean, and most importantly, the blades were as sharp as ever. She had slipped on a dress that held her curves loosely so she could move about the shop. It was light cotton and was a beautiful shade of sapphire with black piping. Her small shoes clicked as she strode rapidly through the front door and flipped the open sign. She had decided that she would primarily run the bakery, but when someone requested a shave, she would temporarily close it. And so there she stood, behind the counter, waiting for her first customer. Soon one man came in, then another, then a woman and her family. By and by many people made a visit and offered the finest praise to her work. No one seemed interested in a shave, though. After about four hours of work, finally a man requested a shave. Luckily there was no one coming to purchase anything at present, so she simply brought out a tiny "closed" sign before leading the man up to the shop.

"This a beautiful shop miss. A lot prettier than it used to be…"

At this statement Nadia became excessively attentive to every word coming from the man.

"Well sir, how by chance would you know that?"

"A long time ago, I came to London after a spending a great amount time on a ship. I rescued a man struggling to stay stable at sea. He was by no means weak, quite the contrary, he was very strong indeed. He was just tired. Anyway, here is where he got off, we were friends. This shop used to be his."

Nadia was dumbfounded. This man had known her father. He had been in almost continuous contact, so it seemed, with the parent who never knew she existed. She was also grateful that he viewed her father with an eye of admiration and respect.

"Sir, would it be to forward of me to ask you your name?" She said while preparing him for his shave.

"Ah miss, please forgive me. I have lost my manners. I am Anthony Hope. I live with my wife, Johanna, in the former Judge Turpin's residence."

She had begun to run the blade along his face, delivering the most flawless shave one had ever known, unless they had known Sweeney Todd. She was almost in a trancelike state while performing this feat. She had never felt closer to her father in all of her life. The razor in her hand seemed to move on its own accord, as if his very hand was guiding her to the perfection of the completed shave. After the shave was refined, Anthony thanked her and headed to the door, but had not set one foot outside before she spoke to him.

"Mr. Hope?"

"Yes miss?"

"Were you ever in close connection with the baker downstairs?"

"Mrs. Lovett?" He said closing the door and returning with a smirk, "I thought you'd never ask. Yes. Mr. Todd never knew it, but I frequently came to Eleanor, or Nellie as she preferred. I would ask her about how to further romanticize my dear Johanna. We trusted each other deeply. And that is how I already know your name…Nadia Todd, and what you are surely planning to do."

Her eyes grew as wide as the plates down in the shop and her face as pale as the flour. A shaky hand was brought to her mouth to stifle the gasp. Could he possibly know of her sinister plot for Tobias? Did he know Tobias too? Was he about to turn her in? Suddenly a wave of calm fell upon her. He was still in the room and she still had a razor in her hand.

"Well then," She said, placing herself in front of the door, "What, pray tell. Is my plan, and if you are correct, give me one good reason not to do as my father, and run a blade into your throat."

"You are so much of both of your parents. Cunning and smooth like your mother, dark and powerful as your father. You must have a reason for returning. Since everyone knows of the 'demon child', you are quite the subject of town gossip. There is no way you would be here if there wasn't anything to be done. Being your father's daughter you must be here to seek revenge. Since no one has wronged you, it must be someone who wronged the parents you never knew, and since one parent disposed of the other, it must be the one who wronged the surviving one: Tobias Ragg. Fear not, I have neither intention of turning you in nor of helping Toby. I never cared too much for the boy myself. If you ever need any help, know that you have a friend in me. I must say though, blood makes my stomach uneasy, so leave me out of that, and don't get any crimson spots on that impeccable dress."

And with that, he left.


End file.
